


Fragments

by orsumfenix



Series: Bluepulse Week 2016 [1]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Brainwashing, M/M, Post-Endgame, Psycho Grandads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: It’s easy to forget that Bart has two grandfathers. One is the Flash, and that’s fine. The other is less so.





	1. Crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Day 1: Love Wins.  
> what is this. i don't know. just. take it.  
> i've taken Lots Of Liberties here, making Eobard Bart's grandfather instead of ancestor for easyness' sake. also kind of messed around with how speedsters work, but it shouldn't be a massive change.  
> i've written fics for days 1, 3 and 5, so Be On The Lookout

There’s a new pair of boots on Bart’s bed.

He blinks, eyes darting around as though that’s going to show where they came from. Beside him, Jaime is staring.

“I didn’t know you’d gotten new boots.”

Bart’s head tilts as he scrunches up his face. The new boots are…well, they’re _shiny_. And clean. And pretty much exactly what he needed. Did Joan get them for him? No, she would’ve told him. Grandpa Barry? He’s busy with Don and Dawn.

His eyebrows crinkle.

“Funny, ‘cos neither did I. Think they’re a bomb?”

“Hold on a sec.” Jaime’s face looks concentrated, but then he relaxes. “Scarab says no.”

“Maybe it _is_ a bomb but he’s the one who sent it.” The look Jaime shoots him is oozing scepticism. A grin creeps its way onto Bart’s face. “Kidding. I’m like – ninety percent sure it’s _just_ a pair of boots.”

Jaime raises a brow.

“Is there a reason they’ve just been dumped on your bed?”

Bart shrugs jerkily, stepping closer.

“I have _no_ clue. Oh wait, there’s a note.” He narrows his eyes. “Um… _‘For my dearest Grandson’._ Wait, they’re from Barry?” The note lowers in his hand. Bart re-scans the boots. “I thought he was broke from looking after the kids.”

“Maybe he got more money,” Jaime suggests. “Figured he’d give you a present.”

Bart frowns.

“But I don’t _need_ new boots. I mean, I appreciate them and all, but…wouldn’t it be better to get me a new communicator? My old one’s still broke.”

Jaime waves his arms. “Maybe he didn’t know?”

“Ugh, this whole thing reeks.”

“Not really.” There’s concern resting in Jaime’s eyes. Bart turns away. “Are you okay? You’re being really suspicious for no reason.”

“Am _not!_ ”

“Are too. Come on, there’s _nothing_ dodgy about these shoes.”

“I… _guess_? I dunno. They just don’t – they don’t _feel_ right. Like if I put them something moding’s gonna happen. Do I sound like an idiot?”

“Bart, you always sound like an idiot.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Bart turns back to the boots, cautiously reaching out with a finger and poking them. When they don’t explode or suddenly come to life, he releases the breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding.

“See?” Jaime reaches out with his hand, grabbing Bart’s free one. “Nothing bad happened. The world didn’t end. And you _do_ need new boots. Yours are the muddiest thing on the planet.”

“Easily fixed. I’ll just wash them.”

“ _You_ doing _chores_?”

“It happens,” Bart defends, turning to face Jaime. He shoots the boots another suspicious look. “Besides, it’s not like my boots don’t work or anything. I don’t _need_ new boots. I’ll, like – put them in a cupboard or something. I dunno. Odds are they don’t even fit me.”

“You never care about clothes fitting you,” Jaime points out. Bart grins.

“Shoes are different. I have to run in them. I swear to god, you haven’t known pain until you’ve run around the world in shoes that rub.” Disentangling their hands, Bart reaches over and grabs the boots, moving to shove them in his cupboard. “Goodbye, boots. Nice knowing ya.”

\--

Two days later, there is a new pair of goggles on his desk.

Bart stares with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. This time, the note reads: _‘Grandson. The time is almost nigh.’_ , which is the most overdramatic thing Bart’s ever heard and so unlike Grandpa Barry that he almost shouts.

He doesn’t, though. Because he has Self Control.

Jaime isn’t here this time, and when Bart calls he doesn’t answer his phone. Ugh. No he has _no one_ to share this with.

Bart never brought up the boots with Grandpa Barry. For some reason, the whole thing still doesn’t sit well with him. And neither does this whole weird goggles shtick. Sure, it was probably done out of good will and it’s probably just meant to be a nice thing for him, but it feels… _wrong_ , somehow.

He stuffs the goggles in a draw. His current ones are fine anyway.

\--

At the start of winter, Bart likes to hold a memorial for the future.

Usually, he tells everyone he wants some quiet time and that’s that. Joan goes out and he gets the whole night to himself, finding a new way to remember that place.

This time, Jaime comes.

“This one’s for my mum,” Bart informs, carefully leaning over with the lighter and setting the candle alight. “She, um…I mean, it was the apocalypse. Lots of people didn’t make it.”

Bart takes a deep breath, ignores the stinging at his eyes, and lights the candle beside it.

“For my grandpa. Not Barry, the other one. Grandpa Thawne.” He clutches the lighter, watching as his fingers go pale. “Technically I should’ve called him Grandpa Eddie, but mum didn’t want me to. He was…bad, I guess. But he was still my grandpa.”

Bart lights more candles, giving Jaime a name and a story for each. Jaime is silent throughout.

When all the candles are lit, Bart sits back on his heels and wipes at his face.

“Then there’s…everyone else, I guess. A whole world that I got rid of.”

“You did what you had to,” Jaime assures softly, the first time he’s spoken. Bart forces a grin.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, can’t take it back now. Just gotta, like, _roll_ with it, y’know?” Jaime nods. Bart’s grin turns bitter. “No you don’t. You’ve never known anything but _this_ life. But you’ve gotta understand – this is my _second_ life. And I had to give up my whole past to live it.”

Jaime shifts slightly.

“When the Scarab got attached to me,” he begins, voice raw. “I knew right away that my whole life was over. That that was just…it. Nothing would ever be the same again. And I was right. It wasn’t.” Jaime takes several deep breaths, and when their eyes meet it’s like Bart’s having his soul drained out of him. “So, you’re wrong. I _do_ understand. But what I also know is that your second life isn’t all bad. If it wasn’t for me becoming Blue Beetle, I’d never have met _you_.”

A grin tugs as Bart’s lips as he shuts his eyes, head tilting back.

“So logical,” he sighs. “That’s why I love you, Jaime.”

His eyes are still shut, but he can hear the smile in Jaime’s voice as he replies.

“I love you, too.”

\--

Bart gets home from staying at Jaime’s overnight to find a packet of lollipops on the floor, complete with a note saying: _‘The time has come, my Grandson. Meet me on the roof of your home.’_

He frowns and glances up at the ceiling on instinct. Should he go up? On the one hand: ominous message. On the other hand: there might be more lollipops.

Bart wonders what it says about him that he’s on the roof in less than two seconds.

Several moments after he gets there, a yellow blur appears.

“My Grandson,” the figure says, and even though he’s speaking Bart just _knows_ that Grandson is capitalised. “We finally reunite.”

“Barry?” Bart screws up his eyes. “Uh…what are you doing?”

“I am _not_ Barry Allen.” Not-Barry-Allen sounds the most insulted Bart’s ever heard, which is a miracle considering that he once told Lex Luthor that he looked like an egg. “Do you not _recognise_ me? Perhaps some memory-jogging is in order.”

Bart stares for several seconds, and then it clicks.

“You’re, uh – Professor Zoom, right?” Now that he’s noticed it, it’s obvious. He’s wearing a yellow version of the Flash’s costume – which, in Bart’s opinion, looks kind of like a banana – and lightning crackles around him. All in all, he’s pretty dramatic, which fits with the descriptions that Grandpa Barry’s been giving about this guy. “The Flash _hates_ you.”

“Well, I do like to cause _trouble_ for him.” Professor Zoom lets out a brief smile, and it looks _kinda_ deranged. Bart hopes _he_ doesn’t smile like that. “But look closer, boy. I’m also someone else.”

“Are you trying to give me your secret identity? Do I get lollipops if I guess right? Areyoureallyalawyerbecausethatwouldbereallycool -”

Professor Zoom seems to get bored with Bart’s babbling, and pulls off his cowl.

It takes a moment to sink in.

“Oh my god,” slips out of Bart’s mouth, because there’s _no way_. “ _Grandpa Thawne?!”_

Professor Zoom’s head tilts as he grins, and it’s so oddly close to Bart’s own grin that he finds himself blinking rapidly to dispel the vision of himself standing there.

“Nice of you to finally notice,” Professor Zoom – no, _Grandpa Thawne_ comments, taking one step closer and then back again apparently just for the hell of it. “I thought I’d given you enough hints.”

“You gave me exactly zero,” Bart states, eyes flickering about. And – okay, yeah, _now_ he gets who the boots and the goggles were from, but at the time he’d had _no reason_ to suspect that they were from Grandpa Thawne, of all people. Who, never mind being in the future – is supposed to be _dead_. Bart decides to skip his internal monologue. “Like, no offence, but what are you doing here?”

Grandpa Thawne claps his hands together. It’s weirdly loud.

“I’m here to give you a history lesson,” he informs, leaning back, and the amount of mannerisms he shares with not only Bart’s mum, but Bart _himself_ is all kinds of weird. “What do you know about your heritage, boy?”

“Um.” Bart blinks. “You mean the Flash?”

“I mean me,” Grandpa Thawne corrects, features twisting. “I _mean_ , your life as a Thawne.”

“Oh. That. Mum mentioned it. But...” Bart flails his arms uselessly. “I’m, ah – not really interested in all that.”

“Which is what I’m here to fix,” Grandpa Thawne proclaims. Which, _okay_. “Are you ready for a history lesson, Bart?”

Bart squints his eyes.

“Do we really have to have one on a _rooftop_?”

“ _Well_ ,” Grandpa Thawne says loudly. God, why does he have to be so _loud_? “ _Obviously_ , we’re going back to the future. You’ll learn to be a proper Thawne and not the appalling failure your mother turned out to be.”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk shit about my mum!”

Grandpa Thawne just grins, seemingly ignoring Bart’s glare and clenched fists.

“When you changed the past,” he begins, complete with a hand on his chest and the most dramatic facial expression Bart’s ever _seen_. “Most forgot, and went on living their lives as though the Reach apocalypse never even happened. But as a speedster, I remained unaffected by this change. I simply woke up to find myself living a different life, without my collar’s restriction and with a home of my own. I quickly found the source of the alteration – _you_.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Speedsters aren’t affected by changing the time stream?”

Grandpa Thawne tilts his head.

“As far as it would seem – we remember the life we grew up with, whether it continues to exist or not. Take you, for instance. Your existence here is a paradox, yet you continue to exist. Because you are a speedster.”

Bart’s mind is whirling with possibilities – mostly the implications of what this means for time travel – but Grandpa Thawne takes a dangerous step forward.

“This action of yours, changing the past, proved to me that you’re a worthy heir to the Thawne legacy. Even if you’ve been – _contaminated_ – by the Allens, at heart you are a Thawne.”

“I’m an Allen.”

“You’re a Thawne.”

“Yeahno, my name’s Bart _Allen_ , kindofagiveway.”

“Your mother was Meloni Thawne.”

“Yeah, and she hated you _too_.” Bart scowls, kicking the floor. “I know when I met you we got on and all, but now that you’re back to having evil plots I don’t like you all that much. You were better when the Reach had you under their control.”

Grandpa Thawne’s nostrils flare.

“No manners, I see. Meloni’s influence, no doubt.”

“Would you _stop_ dissing my mum?”

“She doesn’t deserve my respect.”

“That wasn’t a question.” Bart scowls. At first he’d been _vaguely_ pleased to see Grandpa Thawne, but now this whole thing is just a _drag_. And it means he can’t even enjoy the presents he got, _ever_. “Ugh, this whole thing blows! Can I go back inside now?”

Grandpa Thawne glowers.

“Aren’t you taking this seriously?!” he demands. Bart stares him down.

“Not at all,” is his blunt confession, and then he grins. “I have stuff to do. So _bye!_ ”

Without waiting there a second longer, Bart turns and runs.

He should’ve known that Grandpa Thawne would follow him.

\--

The only people in the base are Cassie, Artemis and Jaime. Three guesses who Bart zooms straight over to.

“Hey.” He prods Jaime’s shoulder, receiving a withering look in return. “I’m craving lollipops.”

“Nice to see you too, Bart.”

Bart grins, leaning against Jaime’s shoulder. In theory, Grandpa Thawne shouldn’t be able to get inside, seeing as he’s not saved in the database. So – safety.

Because the universe is just out to _prove him wrong_ , Grandpa Thawne arrives in a yellow blur right at that moment. Which – _oh_ , yeah. He can run through walls. In hindsight, Bart _totally_ should’ve seen that coming.

“My Grandson -” Grandpa Thawne begins, but it takes Bart all of one second to grab Jaime, Artemis and Cassie firmer than is probably necessary and pull them all out of the room. Grandpa Thawne could catch up in moments, but for some reason he doesn’t even give chase. Not that Bart’s complaining.

He drags them all into one of the storage cupboards with a hidden Zeta Tube, locking the door behind them. Bart doubts it’ll do much good against someone who can walk through walls, but odds are Grandpa Thawne doesn’t even know that they’re in here.

“Bart!” Artemis snaps, tightening her ponytail in a disgruntled manner. “What are you doing?” She pauses, seemingly reflecting, and asks, “Who was that yellow guy?”

“It’smygrandpa,” Bart informs hurriedly, words blurring together, before he forces himself to take a deep breath. “Grandpa Thawne. He’s after me.”

“I thought your grandpa was the Flash?” Cassie adjusts the grip on her lasso, moving from leg to leg as if itching for a fight. “Don’t tell me you were lying about that.”

“Surprise! I have _two_ grandpas. Most people do, you know – one maternal, one paternal and all that jazz. The Flash is my paternal grandpa. But this guy? _Maternal_. Though he has pretty much no parental instincts.”

“Why didn’t you _tell_ us that you have a psycho _grandad?!_ ”

“He didn’t seem that bad!” Bart protests. “Not when I was a kid, and _certainly_ not when he left presents in my room!”

“He got in your _house?!_ ”

“Uh – not _loads_. I don’t think. He lured me onto a roof with lollipops,” Bart awkwardly admits. Jaime shoots him a look that could kill. “Hey, lollipops are great, okay? What’s considerably _less_ great is that he’s trying to take me back to the future with him.”

“I thought the future was a wasteland,” Artemis says bluntly, which, _ouch_.

“I fixed that, remember?” Bart reminds. “Apparently it’s not so moded anymore. But speedsters aren’t affected by changes in the time stream. Grandpa Thawne is from the same future that I am, he just – lives in a different one now.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I had a conversation with him.” Bart rolls his eyes. “ _Obviously_.”

“You had a conversation with a psycho?”

Bart winces.

“In my defence, I didn’t know he was a psycho at that stage? I just thought he was, you know, my grandpa from the future that I kind of _missed_ , okay?”

“Grandson!” a voice shouts from the corridor outside. Bart places a finger on his lips, widening his eyes. Everyone nods, seemingly getting the memo to keep quiet. “Why do you run from me? I only want to bring you your inheritance!”

Bart rolls his eyes. To his side, he sees Artemis do the same.

The sound of lightning crackling reaches his ears, and the corridor outside falls silent.

“Okay,” Bart whispers, eyes darting about. “Everyone get in the Zeta Tube, _gogogo_ -”

Cassie goes first, shooting a worried glance behind her. Bart hopes the expression he sends is an encouraging one, but the weird face she pulls before disappearing tells him otherwise.

Artemis folds her arms.

“Maybe you should go first,” she suggests. Bart tries not to jump backwards with outrage. “Seeing as he’s after you.”

He hates that she’s right.

“Okay.” Bart takes a breath. It comes out a little weird. “But, like – shouldn’t I be the _last_ to go? I’m a speedster, he’s a speedster. I can actually get away if worst comes to worst. Even if he’s -” The words stumble in his mouth, turning sour. “ _Faster_ than me.”

“No -” Artemis begins, but right at that moment the door rips open behind Bart.

Without thinking, Bart steps forward faster than a normal person can blink, and shoves Artemis into the Tube with all of his strength. A burst of blue light, and she’s gone.

“Don’t you dare go through that Tube.”

Bart freezes, turning around as slow as his body will allow.

And there stands Grandpa Thawne, vibrating and crackling, looking _ridiculous_ in his stupid costume, fingers held up to Jaime’s head. Bart’s not stupid – even though the Blue Beetle armour is up and trying to keep Jaime safe, Grandpa Thawne could vibrate through in less than a second and mangle his brain.

Bart’s hands raise placatingly. He takes a couple tentative steps forward.

“Let him go.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“Then we’ve got a problem.”

Grandpa Thawne doesn’t look concerned in the slightest. He just smiles, wiggling his fingers.

“I could burrow into his brain faster than he could even comprehend it,” he comments, in the tone of voice one would use to talk about the weather. “You’d lose your little friend forever, knowing that for all your speed, you just weren’t _fast_ enough to stop me.”

“I _said_ let him go.”

“I plan to. On the condition that you come with me.”

Bart tries to swallow away the dryness of his mouth. It doesn’t really work.

“To the future?”

“Of course. I have my own base there now, you know. And it’s all thanks to you, messing about with the timeline.” Grandpa Thawne tilts his head. “Such a smart boy. When you come with me, you’ll be claiming the inheritance your mother so foolishly chose to skip out on. You’ll become the fastest speedster to ever run.”

Bart breathes out shakily. Jaime’s eyes are wide.

“Run,” Jaime croaks out. At Bart’s wide-eyed look, he makes a slight gesture with his hand. “Go. Go through the Zeta Tube.”

“But.” Bart blinks dumbly. “You’ll die.”

Jaime rolls his eyes.

“Just _go_ , Bart.”

“I -”

“Touching as this is,” Grandpa Thawne interrupts, disgust filling his face. “We both know that you’re not going to step through that Tube.” He’s right. Bart watches tensely as Grandpa Thawne uses his free hand to shove Jaime forwards, fingers still held threateningly towards him. “ _He_ is.”

“Wait -” Jaime gets out, stumbling into the Zeta, and the blue light takes him away with his arm still stretched out.

Bart stares without much comprehension for a few seconds, and it’s enough time for him to jolt at the sudden hand grabbing hold of his shoulder.

“Now, Grandson,” Grandpa Thawne begins, looking all too pleased with himself. “We have a future to return to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said: what is this.  
> like i said: take it.  
> thx v much for reading :)


	2. Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- screams about formatting -  
> i've once again taken Lots Of Liberties w/ comics canon, but it shouldn't detract from the fic  
> thx for the lovely comments on the 1st chap, they rlly made my day :)

Bart emerges disoriented, staggering across the hard floor. He can still hear lightning crackling in his ears, feel vibrations along his legs.

“What -” stumbles out, almost drunkenly, before Grandpa Thawne is at his side and propping him up with one arm.

“That,” he proclaims boldly. “Was the Speed Force. Your first time seeing it, I believe? No wonder you’re such a mess.”

“I don’t -” A surge of annoyance runs through Bart at his sudden inability to speak coherently. “I – why – where -” Luckily, Grandpa Thawne seems to get the gist, gesturing at the area around them with his free arm.

“This is my home, of course. Rather retro, don’t you think?”

“Wha -”

“Have a seat.” Grandpa Thawne’s fingers dig into Bart’s shoulders in a second he’s sitting on a chair, dizzy and ears ringing. Bart shuts his eyes, trying to block out the brightness of Grandpa Thawne’s home. “Don’t worry, I was disturbed after _my_ first time travelling through the Speed Force.”

“You’re disturbed _now_ ,” Bart bites out, and is exceptionally pleased to hear it come out right.

Grandpa Thawne shoots him an undecipherable look, before turning and wondering over to a box on the counter. Bart would get up and run away, but his legs feel like jelly and his mind’s still all dizzy from the – _whatchamacallit_ – the Speed Force.

Instead, Bart looks around. He’s in a kitchen. Great. He’s still craving those lollipops.

“I have a task for you, Grandson.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?”

Grandpa Thawne diligently ignores him, opening the case and pulling out… _something_. Bart doesn’t quite manage to stare, instead blinking lazily.

“I want you to kill the Flash.”

“Um.” His face twists oddly. “That was a joke, right?”

Grandpa Thawne casts a quick glance backwards.

“No.”

A sharp, bitter bark of laughter forces itself from Bart’s throat as he shoots Grandpa Thawne an incredulous look.

“Not happening. No way. Neverinamillionyears.”

“Whyever not?”

“ _Because_ he’s my grandad! And not a shitty one who kidnaps me like _you_.” He seriously wishes he could stand up so he can start throwing punches. Unfortunately, his whole body still feels _weird_. Bart lets out a frustrated groan. “Ugh, why are you even _doing_ this?”

The question doesn’t even prompt an answer, which _sucks_.

Bart’s eyebrows scrunch together as he watches Grandpa Thawne’s back. He has no idea what he’s messing with in that case. Whatever it is, it probably isn’t good.

“Would you like to hear a story, Grandson?”

“Depends,” Bart comments lightly, leaning on his arm. He wishes his strength could have gone to his legs and not his arms. Who needs _arms_ when you’re a _speedster?_ “Is it the story about the psycho who kidnapped his grandkid?”

“Oh, you _are_ witty,” Grandpa Thawne crows, turning around to sit at the table. Bart sneaks a glance at what he’d been messing with, and frowns when all he can see is an injection needle full of a weird, yellowy serum. “No, it’s a story about how a speedster eradicated his nemesis and brought glory to his family name.”

Bart arches a brow.

“So, we’re getting it from the psycho’s point of view? Crash. Can’t wait.”

“Your taunts don’t threaten me, boy.” Grandpa Thawne leans his elbows on the table, fingers interlocking beneath his chin. Does he realise how stupid he looks, still decked out in the banana costume? Bart doubts it. “When you changed time, and I found myself free of an inhibitor collar for the first time in years, I began to experiment with my powers. I used a relic from the Flash museum – the Cosmic Treadmill – to travel back in time and begin causing mayhem in the Flash’s life.”

“Wouldn’t Cosmo’s Windmill only be like, fifty years old tops?” Bart points out. “Not exactly a relic.”

“The _Cosmic Treadmill,_ ” Grandpa Thawne continues, making an extraordinary effort to give the impression that he didn’t hear Bart. “Broke once it had dropped me off, and I began to experiment further. I found myself managing to alter my connection to the Speed Force, allowing me to travel in time at will.”

“This is the worst story I’ve ever heard.”

“Be patient, Bart.”

“I’ve been called ‘Impulse’,” Bart counters, and it suddenly occurs to him that his foot is drumming against the ground. At superspeed. He tries not to grin too wide and give the game away. “Doesn’t exactly conjure up a picture of patience.”

Grandpa Thawne stares at him for a few seconds.

“You are _so_ like your mother.”

“Thanks.”

When Grandpa Thawne grins, it’s with all his teeth.

“That wasn’t a compliment.” He stands back up in a flash ( _ha!_ ) and wanders over to the needle. Bart eyes it nervously. He’s not a big fan of injections. “Meloni refused to murder, too.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“As do I.” This guy obviously doesn’t get sarcasm too well.

But his back is turned, and Bart’s legs have finally stopped feeling _weird_ , so before Grandpa Thawne can continue his shitty ‘story’ he stands up and _runs_.

He doesn’t even make it to the door.

“I’m faster than you,” Grandpa Thawne proclaims, leading Bart back over to the table. Trying to wrench out of his hold does nothing, and neither does vibrating. “You can’t escape me, and I don’t see why you would want to.”

“Because you’re insane!” Bart bites out. Grandpa Thawne’s face is unamused.

“On the contrary, I am _perfectly_ sane.” Bart is shoved back in his seat. Grandpa Thawne looks down at him, using his speed to quickly grab the injection needle. Bart shudders away from it. He _hates_ needles. “If you refuse to kill the Flash, it seems I’m going to have to give you some motivation.” He holds up the needle. “Do you know what this is?”

Bart’s shoulders shrug.

“It’s a serum I’ve concocted. It softens your mind to the commands inputted, though I’m afraid it _does_ scramble your brain a bit. _Very_ fast acting. It’s stage one of helping your mind to become more like that of my heir.”

“Fuck off.”

Grandpa Thawne tuts.

“Such language.” The needle moves closer. Bart flinches back. “Consider this dosage a test. If you need an incentive to kill the Flash…Well. I suppose we’ll see your reaction to the one who killed your mother.”

“ _What_ are _talking_ about? It’s just wordswordswordswithyou, and noneofthem make _any_ sense!”

“I was surprised when I was watching you.” Grandpa Thawne flicks the needle a few times, smiling patiently. “You were going on dates with Jaime Reyes. The third Blue Beetle, correct? I wonder – how can you stand it?”

Bart frowns in confusion, shuffling.

“Stand what?”

“Blue Beetle killed your mother, did he not?”

He freezes up at the words, blood turning cold. Slowly, Bart turns back to face Grandpa Thawne, taking in the smug grin and cruel eyes.

“It was a different Blue Beetle,” he asserts through the felt in his mouth, fingernails digging in to his palms. Grandpa Thawne’s expression turns faux-sympathetic.

“Is that what you really believe?”

Bart blinks, and suddenly the needle’s in his arm.

Grandpa Thawne looks at him.

_“You never came to the past.”_

\--

There is a face in front of him, blue and round and _bad_.

“B̵̥̦̭̩̗a̦̞̣͔r͏̜̭̼t̤̙͚̮̦͠ͅ,̻̝̣͟ͅ” a voice says. “M̥̪̻͙i̴̗̰̻̠̹̲e͙̗͈r̺̲̦̜d̯a̘͚̤, ̬̜̮̝͙͡ͅa̮̱̣̺̼̝ͅṛ͎͈e̢͇̣̞̪̦͎̮ ̸y͚̹͓o͍̮̻̘ͅu ͈̥o̱k̳̯͟ą̙y̤͢?̦̯̣̩̼̯”

“Holy grife,” Bart breathes. “You’re Blue Beetle.”

Blue Beetle looks confused, which is _rich_. He – no, _it_ opens its mouth to say something, but Bart cuts it off.

“You,” he accuses, voice shaking as his whole body vibrates. “You killed my mum.”

_You never came to the past._

Blue Beetle rears back as if struck. It’d be tempting to smirk, if Bart wasn’t pissed off out of his mind.

“I̛̦͚̞̹ ̣͓̹–̨͔̠̮̙ ̞̞̺̘o̝̰͢h̻̭̳̦͕̖͞ ̤̞͡m̯̀y͓͔͙͙͎͜ ̤̟͉̕ͅg̦̞͔̺̀o̷̦d̴̙̫̖̬,̙̩͉̫͙͉̀ͅ” Blue Beetle says, eyes still rounded as he creeps back forwards. “I̼̺ ̝̺͇̪̪̤̲c͓̞̝̳͍͜o̡u͉̘͝l̻͚̣̫͔̦d͚n͎̮͖̦̜’̴̝̼̤ͅt̜̲̗̫͡ ͚̜̭̲̜̤̱h̲͓̲̝̞́a̱͓͍͍̰v̠͚̙̘͎͇ḙ̱̯͙̺̱ ͔̜̼–̭̱̭͉͟ ̶͎͕̹B̼̮̹̣͉ͅa̛̞̣̞͎̬r̙̘̣̹̼ͅt̷̲,̫͚͙͠ ͈̤̘I͖̭’̻̲͍̗̰̳m͎̳̝̙̩̟ ͙͜s̗͔o̖͓͍͖͓͉̬ ̤̠͔̱̫͈͉s̙̼o͚̹̤r̦͎͖̬̖r̮̬͍̕y,̵̦̱̙̠ ̖̬̲̬͢ͅi͈f̙̙̘͙̝̮ ̷̻͙͔̪͙̱ͅI̩̻͔̟ ̢̗̙̖̹͙͓̯d́i͏̹̱̣̪d̘͕͚͖͉͔̕ͅ,̠͔͔̟̮̟ͅ ͚͔I̴ ̹̭͓̲̣̙̲-͏͓̝̣̘̝̙”

“You _bastard_ ,” Bart finds himself hissing, taking a step forwards as the lightning of his speed cracks around him. “You _killed_ my _mum_. I’ll kill you!”

“B̸͎̙ͅą͎̖̯̩r̜̩̼t͖͕͎̫͔͇!͠” it yells, but Bart’s already moving, letting out an inhuman cry as he leaps forwards, hands coming up to punch Blue Beetle faster than a normal person can see. “D̨i͎̦ͅo̭̰s –̘̯͖̝̻ ̢̲̮d̜͖̟̫́ͅó̙̹͎͖n’̹̣͓͚t̫̤̀ ̷̫̦̘̞̱̖͖a̡̖̼̘c͕͇̳͟t̛̳͈̪͍͉͉i͍̳̭͚͉̤͍va̶͉͔̖̠tę̞̦͇̤ͅ ͔͝ẁ͉̲͇̞̱͓ͅe̙̭̩͜a̷͙̤͈̪͉p̴͕̠͙o̵͚̱̗̺̰̬n̨s̩̹̪ͅ! ̩̞̻̺̝̙̱͜B̵̩̣͉͉̜̞̗a̭̲̺ŕ̳̱̘̻̫̰̲t̸̹̱,̭̣̞̩͡ ̝y̛o̷̦̯͎͔u̳͔̬̜̺̦ͅ ͎̭͜ṋe̠͎͕̙͢e͏̱̙̻̹̺̖̰d͎͚̯̥ ̡͖̱t͍o̟͈ ̵͔͎͇̳̠-̤̪̖”

Blue Beetle gasps, letting out a shout as Bart manages to land a particularly large blow. He grins, triumphant, but it only lasts for a few seconds before someone is hauling him all the way off, and he’s _never_ resented being small as much as he does now.

_You never came to the past._

“Let go of me,” he snarls, already struggling, but there’s hands clutching onto him and dragging him away and Blue Beetle isn’t allowed to be _okay_ , that’s not _fair_ it’s _not_ he needs to _pay_ –

Bart doesn’t even realise he’s been saying everything out loud until someone is shushing him, telling him to calm down, but the worst part is that he _can’t_.

“He killed my mum,” he gasps out, practically choking out the words as he launches himself forwards only to be pulled back again. “I’ll fucking kill him, I _will_ , and I’ll kill you too if you don’t let go of me _right now_ , I’llvibratethroughyou just _let me get him_ -”

“J͓͕̮͉̥͍e͈̼̠̗s̷̤̹͍̩̥̻ͅu̢s̸̞̹̻̦̳,͚̰̝̞͡ y͉̗̣̱̺̙͡o͍u͔̭̜̥̕ ̪͈͎̯̹̮ǹ͇͈̘e̛e̬̻̙̼d̫̦̲̺̥͓ ͔͚̤̙̫t͎ọ̼̥͘ ̞̖̗̤̲͍c̩a̖̱͘ͅl̀m̱̲͕̩̖̼ ͚͎ͅd͢o͚w̟̘͙̠n̼̦̘̲̥̖͎,̯̖̻̘̮̣” someone hisses in his ear – a blonde girl with wide eyes and an iron grip, pulling him away. “J̺͝u͇̻̝̕s͍̲̯̫t̰̖̙̰̬̤ͅ ̼̥̤̖̰̕–͍͇͎͟ ̤̥͇ho̘͓͙l̘d͉̖̤̭ ̠o̖̩̳n̴̻,͓̩͓̥͇̖ ͎̭͎̙͈͎͠ͅM̫̻̠̙̰͎ͅi̧s͇̗̝̻s̟̗̲̰̰͜ ̱̯̮͜M̵̪a̝͎̥̘̠̕r͍͕̟͕̼̱̼͢ti҉̙̼̳a̞̫n͎̜̖̦̱̹̗’̥̻͖̭s̘̝̳͕͢ ̡͚̰̥̗̤ą̳̟͕ͅl̖̣͈͝m̩͝o̯̜̩͓̻̖̪s͖̹͇t͚ he̦̖̮͎̺͈r͕̙̮̗̕e̛̪.̜̤̬̭”

“No. Nonononono he needs to _die_ I need to _kill him_ I -”

“ _I’ll take it from here,”_ a voice says in Bart’s mind. He flinches. “ _Oh, gosh, Bart, your mind is – never mind. I need you to calm down.”_

“Get _out_ of my _head_!”

“ _I’m **really** sorry, Bart, but I don’t think I have another choice. I’m going to put you to sleep. It won’t hurt, but it’ll be easier if you’ll just relax.” _

“Shut _up_!”

Then something is taking over and the corners of his vision are blurring and things are starting to shut down –

\--

“K͉̯̟ͅid̻̭̺̜͟ ͔͖̖͜F̶l̥̘̗͔̀a̦͙̖̕s̘̠̗h͓͙͉͞?̗̙”

_You never came to the past._

There’s someone there, looming over him. Bart reaches out blindly, blanching when he realises his wrists are tied down to the surface below.

“K͏̮̞̞̹̜͕͙i̱̯̯͉̦͇d̙ F̷̣̣͔l̴̲̹ͅa͓͇̪͉ś̘̣̯̻̫̲h̦̼̦̗̰ͅ,͇̰̮͈̘̣ ̷̰̮c̙a̛̻̬̭͚͖̬n ̮̦̖̲y̴͚̰̝ó̜u҉̦̥̭ ̺̯̥͙ḩ͎͙͓̲e͠a̻͇̤̼̖̤r̠̖̯̲͝ͅ ̡̖͕͖m̩̣ḙ̢̖̭?̠”

It’s fabric, Bart realises. Fabric straps holding him to a fabric bed. He cranes his neck, seeing whitewhite _white_. His arms push up, trying to break free. No such luck.

There’s a familiar coolness around his neck.

A collar.

The Reach.

_You never came to the past._

“Grife.” So he’s back in captivity, then. One of the labs, by the looks of the whiteness surrounding the walls. Someone must’ve caught him. But who? _How?_ He was miles from a camp –

“B̹̪̖͉̦ͅa̩̞͖͉̘͈͠r̪̻̮̠͔̜ͅt҉?̣̠͖̹̪̱͖̀”

Blue Beetle was there. How did he get there? He – he killed Bart’s _mum_.

“B̻a̼̳̺̯ͅr̻̗̘͕͞t̩ͅ?̬̝͓̩̭͡ ̡̲͙I̞͎̥t̤̪͡'̗̖̪s ͔͈͚̱̖̺̜N̵̘͍i̛g̻̳̹h̺͚̩̩͚̖̮t̞̠̟͟w̸͕͈͎̰̮i̸̝̰̱͉̟̠n̠̖̼͓g̭͖̜̞̭͞.̛̱͈͈͍̜̘̬ ̜͉̻͇̀C̛a̧̦̼͓̭̠̤̯ṋ̻̀ͅ ̼̞̹̲͞y͙̦͚͍͉o҉͚̺̥̝̰̝̠u̷̟̩͉̯̯ ̮̳ḩ̺̺͎͙̝e̫̗a͖͍̪͕͔͢ŗ̖̥̱̭̰̪ ̫̳̤̜͞m̠̯͈͚ͅe̛̫͉͉̦?̶̤̭͔͙”

Shut up, stupid voice! He’s trying to _concentrate_.

Everything’s blurred around the edges, both in his vision and his mind. What – year is it? He escaped from the camp, right? How long ago was that? Mum died years before that, but it feels like it was yesterday. Hours ago, even.

Why does the Reach scientist look like Dick Grayson?

Bart pulls at the straps again. They don’t budge.

Another figure approaches, the green skin being _much_ more Reach-like. Have they drugged him? Is that why he’s so confused?

“L̶͎̹͓̯͈e̟̜̱̝̩͓̰t̫̞͚̬ ̝̫̺̮̣m̸̺̠̫͖̻̟͈e̬͍͎̥͓ ̣t̶̹ry̫͇.̷̙͓”

The voices fall silent. Thank god. Now his head hurts slightly less.

 _“Bart? Can you hear what I’m saying?”_

_You never came to the past._

“Get _out!_ Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout -”

“Ó͉͍ͅḳ̶̲̖̝͓͎͈a̛y̖̬̰.͎͇̗̖̬ͅ ̺͙͈̀O̶̖̪̜̟̘͓̰k̠a҉̖̪y̭,̴ ̤̖͙̠͖̜ͅI̤̮͇͝ͅ'͓̗͠m͡ ̵̰o̷͖̟̫̥͉ut̡̻͇.̙̟̺ I̮̩̹̯'̷̻m̪͉͓̯ ̼s͚̯o͙̺̩͔͚͕ͅr͙ͅr̵̹̙̠̖͓ͅy҉̗.͓͠ ̞̦̘̙̫͈̹I̺̝̬͇ ̵͚̣̫ͅsh̴̘͖̤̲̰o̥͉̲͇u͘l̯d̡͖ṉ̼̥'̠t͉̪ ̜͚́h͜ḁ̗̤͇͎̤̮͜v̧̱̠̣͍e̠̩͔̙̘͟ ̫g̯̱̭͉̺͟ǫ͎̦̼n̟̟̞̖͎̪e͚ ̦̲̭i̘̤̹̥̘ͅn̮̘͇͔͔͕ ̖͕͙̜̺w̥͙͞i̼t̠̯̮̬͕̘̲h̷̝̩͔͕̹̬o͇ͅu̮͔̰ͅt ̞y̹͇͎͎̖o̵͉ųr̯̟̲̟͕̻ ̡̪p̭̲͈̫̤̲̗ȩ̲̯̠̹̗̳̪r͚̩̝͟m̹͖̯̮͡i̝̣͉̘͓̯̼͝s̪̗͚̤͓͡s̩͚i̡͓͖̻̪̞o̟̤̦ǹ̳̯̣̤̣.͓̠̮̩̦̩”

His head hurts. There’s moisture on his skin – oh, great, he’s sweating everywhere. Bart bets the Reach are taking samples of _that_.

Another push at the restraints. It’s still futile.

“I̞̳̮̘̤̫͜'͔͕̱ṃ ̮̟̥̗s̻͟o̱͉̟̰͖̰r̢̠̬r̭y̘͡ ̨̜̱̬̱a̦̯̖b̧̞̘o̙͜u̘̥t̘̫ ̖t̼͈̱̘h̪̟̥͔͓̼̲͟e̸̘͍̝̠̟ ͈̟͎͖͉r̜̪̳̣͖̯ͅe̗̭̝̤̩͚s͉͇͈̠t̰͔̤̺͡ṟ͈̟̙̻ai͏͚̻̥̙̰̼̜n̛t͓̩s͓͓̞͢.̩ ̵̟͙A̶n͞ḏ ̸th̵̟̲̱̼͙̳̞e̝͟ ̛̮̟̰̥͖͖̦c̖͎͇͙o̸̺͕̱̹l̻͙͙l͟ár͇̣̞͎̤.̰̹͟ ͈͎̼̗͜Y҉͓o͔̰̩̯u̢̞͓̗͉͙ ̪̲w͙̤̟̲̫̦͜e̪r͟e ̠f͏̺͖̱̭̘̗ŗ͔͓̳͉̯e̙̥̕a͏̟̹̗͎ͅk̢̝͙̟͔͎͓͉i͇ṉ̭͢g̪̥̣̺̩̳͡ͅ ̱̬͈̲̲͈͠ọu̢͔̝̤̹̪̜t̖̥̭̯̝̪͈ ̞̘̭̹̟͇̥͜a̤̥̦͍ͅn̵͚͚̤d͓̲ ҉͍̰̟̭̹̟we̷͖̪̞̱͔͎͙ ̖̠͇̳̯d͓̥̭i̜͍ͅd̘̱͞ṉ͔͍'̕t͎͓̖̩̟ͅ ̟̙̟k͏̭̘̩̰̰n͚̦̝o̱͍͕͍w̲͝ ͏̮̘̯w͉̥͜h̡̲͖̬̩a̟t̹̙̳́ ͡e͎͟l͓̘̰͇͔͉̦̀s̵͖̝̤̟e͔̹̻̦ ̞̼͚̝̠͓t̞̪̼͟o͈̲̟͎̠ ̴̝͖͎̫͙d̼̯̞̠̝͓͟o̵ ̳̺-̕”

“Blue Beetle.”

A pause.

“W̞͎̙̲ͅh͓͕͍̪a̩͇̣͉͇͓t̶͍ͅ?”

Bart doesn’t know what the scientist said and he doesn’t care. His voice is raw as he speaks, but he _needs to know_.

“Where is he? I – I need to speak to him.” If he gets close enough, maybe he can kill him. “It’s about – I just – I need to -”

“B̙͍̫̯̣̹a̙̮̬ṟ͢ͅt҉̥̪̙͚̥,̬̳͔̲͟ ̩͔͓͔̯̻̬c̦̮̻a͉̠̩̠̜l̤͓̫̠m̴̙̼̤͎͍ ̖̭̯̯͘ͅd̛o̳͇̲w̖̘̖̤͚͓̫n͍͎͚͞ͅ.̧̹̘̙̰̗̟ͅ”

The voice is distracting. It needs to go away.

_You never came to the past._

Bart lets out a frustrated sound, shaking his head wildly.

“Go _away!_ _Please_ , you’re hurting my head I can’t _think_ just _go_ I can’t – I need to -”

The scientist’s shoulders are shaking. What’s she doing? Is it part of a test? If it is, he won’t play along. He’s not their fucking _experiment_.

“I̷̯̥͔͙ ͓-̡̝͚̜͚͙͉ ̛N̦͕̟͙i̭̞͈̦̯g͎͖͠ḥ̠̞̦͓̜tw͈̯͍̤͇i̘̩̥̲n͉͚͓̩͞g͖͙͉̬̗,̯͕̰͕͕̳̥͡ ̜̞̤̥̪̤̘I̡͓͓'͓̪̝̘̗̰̯͘m̴̝͔͎̫͖ ̷̣̥s͏̣̭̩͚̳̙o̦͈̹̫r̢͖̪̹͖̦̘ͅr͇͈̰y̼,̵̯͍̖͙ ̨I̤̘͚͙̣̬̲͡ ͉͉̞̗̳͍̕d̯̞̮̪͉͎o̪̟͓͍̤̰̱n̞'t̢͖̫̪͖͙͓ t͖̦͖͓͕͔̫͢h̵͙i҉ṇ̵͙͕k̦͚̕ ̳̙̳̱̝̣̳I̜̰ ̪̪͔̬̱̘c̯̤͔͚͇a͎͟ͅn̖͓̻ ̺̬̠͎-̮̞ ̣̫̱̕H̪̠̫̹͖̥̬e̶̗͕͕ ͖͙͕̬d̤̩̜̙͚͕o͎̺̯èş̞̳̫ͅņ͚̰̤̠̻͍'t̢̠̖̬̳ ̭̤̗̩w͏a̯̪̼̦̬̻̘n̲͚̲̳̭̞̲͡t͚͉̮͖̪͖͡ ̹̞̭m̮̤͖̣̝̥e͍͞ ͚i̼͓͈͍ͅn̛͖̩̩̺̩ͅ ̜̺h͖͈̫͖̭͉i͚̣̰͠s̡̯͔͔̠̤͚ h̴̦̳͖e̮̲͟a̤͎͇̳̪͙͡d̞͓̮͉ ҉a͔̪n̩̳͈͝d͕̤ ̜̞̰͓̹̬̫͜w̭̗̲h̬͖̺en͔̭ ̷I̡͇̦͖̣͔̰͉'͍̘͈̯̰m̬̥ͅ ̱̼̺s͓p̲̗̪̪̯͕̲͝e̵̯̳ak̟̝͈͈i̱͍̼̺n̙̭͉̠g̯̗̦͉̟͜ ̧̤͍̩h͍̲̺̱̠e͏̙ ̷ḏ̬o̖͍͖̫͇͎̖é̯̺ͅsn'̡t͖͖̥̱ ͎̤͎̪̼̥͍u̙n͎͖̠̯̦d̷͕ḛ̻̥͓͎̻͇r̩̖ṣ͚̲̞̦̪̮͞t͔̞͉a̴̭͕n̹̯̖͕͟d͕̗̞̪̹̣ ͔̦̥̰̤́-̮̫̲̳̼”

“I̺̮͓͞t̻͇̜̪'̭̰͎̬̤̯s̗ ̻̼̥͔o̻̭̠̭̭k̞a̡̟̙̥ͅy,̫̘̳̺͓̳ ̪̹͉͘M̢'͖͖̣̪G̥͈͡a̷̹͙̟͈n̲̼͇̪̘n.̤̳̩̬͡ ̞̗͕̦͍͓ͅI̞̟̹̞t̪̫̯̟̙'҉̯̳̼ş̻̹̭ͅ ̯͕̳̙̗̘̻n̴̤͍̭͙o͇̙̮̖t͇̼ ̢̦͇̺̭ͅy̭̼͞o̘͈̦̺ṷ̪r ̤̲̼fa̙͉̳u̕l̷t̶.̗̙͙̳́ͅ”

Two voices now. They can both go to hell.

“B̞͝a͍͉͚ͅr̯̘̱͙̯̣̞͟t̠͍̯? ̞͇̬̖C̬̠͘a̝̺̕n̷̯̘ ̗y̫̹̱̻o͓̣̫͕͓͞u̺̻͍̳͡ ̘͍͇̩̱ͅu̩̺̖͕ņ̟̹͚d̴̩̪͈̻̗e̱r͓͍̖̩s̟̣͙̖͔̠ͅt̯̦a͈̦̙n͙d̰͉͙̮̤̗̮ ͙̙m͕̠e̞̥͖͇̝̙̥͜?̣͚͉̬͇̬̀”

“I don’t – who are – _what_ are – I don’t know where I am _whereamIwho **are** you?!_”

“I̢̻͖̝͍̩̲ ͏t̪͓h҉͇̹̹̳̰͔i͙̖͇̫n͈̯k͕̩͖̤̤̫ ͈̘̻͇̮̻̦w̷͙͓̠̹̩e͏̭̹̫͕͉̥͎ ͙̻̞̜̕n̢̠͕̹̰̤̮e̜e̥̞d҉̠͚̠̗͓͇ ̨J̕'̯o͚̜̥n͝n̖̼͙̜̬.͎̞͘ M̪̠̥͈̣'͈͝G҉̥̳̣̮͔̹a̷͍̲̭̞ṉ̭͝n̡͕,̧̩̫̞͉ ̵c͇̘̫̟̞̤̩a͉͠n̘ ͙̻̺̜̜̰͢y͕o̥̬͇̕u͎͓̲̰͖̜̳ ̜̭̦͚p͍̩̠̀u̴̮̖̬͙̝̮̻t̥̱̮̖̟ ̖͇̜͉̲̞̬h̫̝̱͔̯͞im̘̫̹̗̘ bạ̝̣c̹k͖ u͏̣̦̦̫n͘d̥͖̜̻̭e͓̼̗͠ṛ̗̟̹͖͔͕?̶͎̹”

“I͈̖͕ d͇̜͚ǫn͝'̭͖͔̤͖͈͎̕t͈̀ ̩͖̘̳̥̩͙k͇̥̼̣͙n͚͔͍̳̳o̱͍̹͚͔̥w͈͓̣̮̫̥̪͘,̻̖ ͕͍̣N̠̙͇̼͞ị̯͢ģ̫̟̰͉h͎̳t͎̠̝̩̰̣̺͘w̼̞͚̭̥i̵͉̯̜͇̮n̶g̻̼̳̝̻͜.͖̙̣̯̜͜ ͈̳̰H͈̩̪̮̰̤̙i͓̰͉͈͜s̘̝͖̦̣̜ ͔m͏̱̟̜̘͖͚͉i̝̯̜̳͍n͙̥̟̟̦̪d̸̩͚̹̙̮'̮̫̹s̘̣̟̯ ̢̼̫̫̗i͚̮̹͈͍n̩͚͞ ̢̜̻̖a ̨l̯o͍͍̼̻̰̻̫͡t͏̖ ͖̣̻̟̝͍o̱̦̮f̴̬͍ ̮̞̳̱͕̻̦di̵̭̖̰͚̟s͙̼t̙̥̕r͢e͎s̹͓̭̱̰̪̀s ̛r̹̤̻̹͇͜i͖͎̖̼̫͟g̥̭̞̟h͖͇͎̱̬͔̥́t̵͓̭ ̫̪͈̪n̳̠̼̠̬̰̗͠o̳w̷.̨̺”

“B͔͙̕r̫͖͉͜ḁ̶̯̺̜̜͔i͕n̝̥̥̘̥̹̲w̬͈̺̼̕a̟̖̼̥̜s̝h͢i̢͓̰͔͈̝n̤̝̕g̖̜̝͓̗͕?͏͔”

“̯͔̞̖̠I̡ ̘̝͈͍͓t̴̮͉̙̪͇ḫ̵̥̬͇̼i̶̝̣̙̹̠̬nk͍̘̩͍͡ ͉̠̰̞̩s̞̮̯̤o.͇͙̺͙̫”

“S̷̠̤̯h̦͎̼̞̗͙i͇̤̤͍ṯ̜.͓͝”

They need to _shut up!_ They’re hurting his ears!

A flash in front of Bart’s eyes, like a spark.

Someone else is there, someone new.

Someone yellow.

_You never came to the past._

“F̸o̦͇̮̳͙̯ͅr̖̻͖͇̣g̯̣̖̦̮̫͈i̷͓̰v͡e͖͘ ̤m̱̤͇̱̖ͅe ̧̯̞͕͚f̢̫̻̥̳o̩̭̙̞̟̜͜ͅr̹̭̺͓ ̳͔i̦͙̰ṋ̖̜͡t̶̝̱̟̩̬̝e̩̦̺͖̜rr͙͇̩̘̰̰̠͝u̮p͇͚̭̘͡t͉̱̮̰̭̲ị̙͇̗̳̘̞͡n̢͎͖̫̪̗͍g͈̣̞̝̺̭, b̼͓͟u҉t ̝͕̗͓I͙͈͕̪̭’̙m̜̫ ͎̞̱̙̙ͅg̮̤o̴̺i̯̹̻̖͙̕n̻g̫ ̺̗̦ͅt̷̳̠͚o̭̳̳̞̭ ͚͞n̥e̷̦ͅḛ͕d̝̣ ͙̩̰̲͈ͅm̡͕̫̗͙̼̹y̨̘ ͚G̠̮̠̳r̖̟͙͚̫̹̰͘a̼̗̫̹͟n̖͇̫̲͡ͅd͔̻̟̪s̴̖̹̭͍̞̤̱o͈̺͖n͚̺͔̝̞̜̹͠ ̢͖̪̳̖̥͉b̢̯̦͍̜á̪͓̹͈̙̳͕c̝͍͇̠͟ͅk̭͖̙̖̝̲̠.̩̤ ̩̰̼̰̫̺͍T͔͙̮̟̹̙́ͅh͎ḁ̷n̨̙k̹͔͔̟̩̗s̹̙̝͔̮͡ ̝̹̙̰̯́e̹͔͇̭ͅv̵e͈̯̫͙͉̝r͟ ͙͍̹͙̗͟s̤̟o̲̩̙̗ͅ ̭͕̟͠m͝u͘c̢̙͎͉̙̞̻̱h͔͇͔͚̲͠ ͎̲f̞͉̪̻̬̙o͟r̦͎̖͍͙̲̕ ̴̼̭t̛͈͉͍̩̬̫̙a̜k̡̭͍ͅì̯̝̜̻͖̭͉ņ̺̪g̥̗͎̘͘ c͖a̟͎͚̖͈ͅr̩̞̠͎͚e͏̠̻̠͇̭ͅ ͏o̦̥̲̦͙̦̘f͎ ̬̰͜h̵̺͈̜͇̤̲i͔̼̦͚̬m̧̥̗̫̠.̬̩̙̙̻͔̞”

The New Figure undoes the straps and disables the collar in less than a second, lifting Bart into his arms with ease.

“Who are you? _Who are you?_ Letgoofme letgoletgoletgo -”

“Y̯͝o͜u̝'̦̼r͖̣̯̼e̙̕ ̪̳͔̼̫̭͢l̴u̻͕͘c̦͕͍͈̕ͅk͙͈̱͈ͅy̧͔͙̟͚͚͉ ̙̻͓͕ͅḬ̙ ̛͚̳̭̪͕̪t̪͓̺͕͖̮̗ḥ̬i̸n̫͕̦̳͖k͜ ̨͓y̻̳͉̪͞o̡͎̘͕͕̝̳̺u̘͖͎̯̻ ̫̙̗͍h̷͇ͅa͎̦̬̺͔͝v̭͈͙̜͢e̦̥̬͙̫ ̴̗p̞̝̭̳̬͕̖o̸̻t́e҉͎n̘͓t̤̘̠̤͉i̻͇͇̹̼͢a̡̫͚̙͉̮̘͉l̞̣͔͚̮̤̹.̧͇̤̭̟ͅ ̬͙͢O̝̹̹̙̖̤r͎̘̥ ̱̹͍̘ͅel̝̝̮̝͔͕ṣ͉͚͙͡e̟̺̰͢ͅ ̝͢I̬͔̩̟̪̥̰'d̡̙̲͉̗̟͈̰ ̧͖͍l̵͙e͈̤̟̪̕ạ̴͉̹͎̯̟̜ve̝̺͚̼͟ͅ ̦̙̘̖̯͟y͔̱̗̯̙̟̯o̡͖ư͎̺̝̩̞ ̖̗̬̞̲͎͘h͓̯̭̝e̘̯̪̝̰̺r̛͍͙̦e̴̞̯͇ͅ ̺t̪̞̲͇̻́ͅo͈͍̭̪̭̳͡ ͔̻̦̜̗̻͙r͙̬͕̘o̵t̻̖̹̮͎͓̜.͟”

“ _Letgoletgoletgoletgoletgoletgoletgoletgo -_ ”

“D̻o͙̲͖̩͍̝̪ṇ͖'̛̤t͉͇̝ ̘̠̖̩̞̫̬w͔͎̲o͚r̙͉̮̳̭̪r̹̹͍̖̪̳͙̀y͈͙, ̵̞͎͉̘t͚̥h̭̖̞̣̜̪̝́e͢ ̛̬e͍̟̖̺͓̺̙f͎͙̺̦͓͢f͍͔͉̲͓͎e̜̥̻̜̦͔̯c͔͚̥͝t̬͘ś̲̬ ̖͔s̢ͅh̭̱̮̹͝o̵̺͕͈͓ͅu͡l̰̞̘̫d҉̩̜͈̬ ̙͕̞w̬͉̹̯͝e̲̼a͎̖̪r̦̪̫͉͚͚ͅ ̛͉͇̻̖̫̫̞o͓͍f̠̩̹f̨ s͓̞̣͍o͏̺̠͓o̯̠n͚͓͠.̢A͈̼͉̳d̷̥̬̟͇i̯̮͡o͏̝s͕,̨̣̼̘̘ ͍͚̪̝̮̦̦h͉e̶͈̣̭̥̥̟̮r̠̩̤̹o̝̺͖̦̻͓̪e̞̳͖͍͢s̶̜͖̟̱̻̳͍!̙̣”

The world becomes a blur, and suddenly he’s surrounded by lightning.

_You never -_

\--

“I hurt Jaime,” Bart whispers, the edges of his vision still sharp and _painful_. “I – oh my god, I need to see him.”

The collar is gone, his neck bare. A breeze runs over it. He shudders.

“You don’t need to see your little friend,” Grandpa Thawne states, messing with the plates. Bart is sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at the uneven pattern and wishing he were anywhere but here. “You’re a Thawne.”

Bart shakes his head, a futile gesture.

“I’m not,” he insists, fists clenching. “Stop saying that. I – I’m an Allen, and I need to go _back_.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Grandpa Thawne turns round at superspeed and dumps a plate in front of Bart. It looks like the perfect balanced meal. He wants to be sick. “You don’t _need_ all these things that you think you do.”

A flash of anger goes through Bart and his head snaps up. He glares at Grandpa Thawne, knowing it’s childish and becoming all the more determined to do it just because of that.

“I need,” he snaps, gritting his teeth. “To see Jaime. He’smyboyfriendandIlovehim, and I tried to _hurt him_.”

Grandpa Thawne just _laughs_.

“You can’t _love_ at your age.” He is sitting at the table in the blur of an eye. “And a Thawne doesn’t love at any age – that was your mother’s flaw, her delusions of _love_. This Jaime boy, he’s just – what is it that they say? Oh, right – he’s just a phase. He’s _nothing._ In a few years, you’ll have forgotten all about him.”

“Shut up about my mum!” Bart snarls, fingers curling around the edge of his plate. He’s vibrating in his seat, but Grandpa Thawne looks less than impressed. “You don’t know _anything_. Jaime is – everything, to me, and it’s _you_ who’s nothing! Actually, scrap that, you’re _less_ than nothing. I _hate_ you!”

Grandpa Thawne watches him with raised eyebrows, before sighing and standing up.

“I suppose another dose is in order?” he muses, wandering over towards the kitchen counter, where the briefcase containing the needles lies. Bart flinches back on instinct, before allowing said instinct to completely take over. He stands as fast as he can – which is _fast_ – and _runs_ out into the hallway, turning left because he doesn’t know what other way to go, and it’s only seconds before Grandpa Thawne is grabbing his arm and tutting.

Bart growls and tugs to no avail. Then he feels tears sting at his eyes, because this is _embarrassing_.

“You forget that I’m faster than you,” Grandpa Thawne points out, holding up a needle that he’s apparently already prepared. “One day you will surpass me, but as of right now you are just a child. Do you understand that, Bart? I will always. Win.”

He’s so tired, but Bart shuts his eyes and _vibrates_.

It doesn’t work.

“I’ve matched your frequency,” Grandpa Thawne informs, still clutching Bart’s arm in a vice-like grip. “You can’t escape, Bart. I know what I’m doing. I’ve _planned_ this.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because, I need an heir. One that _isn’t_ infatuated with her mortal enemy.” Grandpa Thawne sucks in air between his teeth, making an odd sort of whistle. A shudder runs through Bart. “Your first dosage worked pretty well, with one exception – you were unable to pick out my voice and listen to it. We’ll have to try and rectify that.”

“…I thought I could trust you. I thought you were just my _grandpa_.”

“Oh, Bart, don’t you _see_?” Grandpa Thawne raises the needle, plunging it in Bart’s arm. It stings. “I’m the _only_ one you can trust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have the next chap written but i'm p sure i know what i'm doing in it, so hopefully it shouldn't take too long


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